Uncertainty creeps.

“Melanie’s possible weaknesses:

May not respond well to uncertainty.”

So says a psychometric test I took recently – and I couldn’t agree more! My “situation” of uncertainty is ongoing, hence the radio silence on the blog as keeping things from you my dear readers (!) feels a little like absence of satya (plus I have a hard time keeping my trap shut, but confidentiality is required at this stage). Haha – I’m making this out to sound a lot more exciting than it really is!

Anyway I found this comment interesting as it has been well demonstrated in my body and mind (and more particularly my practice) over the past week. I have read numerous dedicated teachers (though Nancy Gilgoff springs first to mind) say that the benefit of having a daily practice is that it’s your opportunity to check in and see where you are at, and if you are feeling unwell, or not quite balanced in some other way, that it will probably show up first in your practice (if you’re not already aware of it, that is). Last week I had the week off work, and in my mind’s eye it was the perfect chance to get some serious rest and relaxation plus (of course) to throw myself into my practice. In the run up to my holiday-at-home I was seriously exhausted and was only just getting through the preceding week at work. I even (shock horror) skipped a day of practice that week, having got up at 5.30, switched the shower on, then turned and seen my reflection and the horrendous black circles under my eyes. Interestingly the mental argument to skip practice was as much a battle of wills as I used to face to go to practice back in the olden days before I was an ashtanga swot ;)

But it turned out that my body had other ideas for my dedicated practice and rest week. Well for starters I turned out to be too busy to rest - having been away for the weekend I then made plans for Monday Tuesday and Wednesday. So for example after  practice on Wednesday I rushed home for a quick shower and breakfast before leaving again an hour later to meet my sister who was in London to visit me for the day (and we had a very very lovely time too, but exhausting!!). By Thursday morning as I slogged through yet another very laboured practice I realised that something had to give – the phrase that kept running through my mind was that I was “running on empty” and once the thought was there, it stuck – round and round it went, from the suryas to closing. I also could no longer avoid the fact that the life-uncertainty that I am in the midst of is impacting on the ability to focus my mind.  I am living in a time of speculation where I can see four distinct and separate ways that my life could go and until I know what’s going to happen, I just need to allow the uncertainty to be there, but not to let it get the better of me. But this is a little easier said than done. After Thursday’s practice I went for coffee & pastries with a shala-friend, then on to meet another yoga friend in town for a few more hours of coffee/tea and catching up (and a second breakfast) and by the time I got home I was wiped, emotionally and physically. So I decided that with a few days remaining of my holiday (how did the week go so fast??) I needed to start getting in some serious rest. Afternoon naps became obligatory from this point onwards. In all honesty if I hadn’t of had dinner plans with another yoga friend I probably would have stayed in bed from about 4pm onwards! In my past life (pre-ashtanga) I would never have been capable of falling asleep during the day unless I was ill or seriously hungover, but I seem to be getting the hang of it quite nicely these days. My favourite thing is to get right into bed but leave the curtains open – in the middle of the afternoon the sun streams in through my bedroom window so I end up napping in the sunshine like a cat.

After my successful napping attempt on Thursday I decided that a few days r&r to heal my body and soul could make all the difference. True, my situation wasn’t going to be resolved yet, but at least I would be less shattered. So after the led class on Friday I took a leisurely solo cafe breakfast with my copy of Guruji (which I am adoring, naturally), then headed home by which time I almost felt ill (I was soooo cold) that I ran a very hot bath, climbed in, and got straight back into my pyjamas afterwards and went to bed. I think it was about midday by this stage. I got up in time to make red lentil & lemon soup which I ate (still in my pjs) before heading off to see my magical cranial osteopath (who does all sorts of other bodywork and I never know what to refer to him as. Let’s just call him Rob.) First questions from Rob: So how are you? (standard answer without remembering who’s asking – “fine!”) How’s your body? (haha!!). I told him about my week off, and how I thought I would be getting my energy back, but practice has been a slog and I am beyond exhausted. He practices and teaches yoga too, and has often spoken to me before about how we make deals with our body – in busy times we stick to crazy schedules, don’t sleep enough, don’t eat well, and we tell ourselves that it’s “just until I get the promotion” or “just until the end of term” – whatever it is, we cut a deal with ourselves that this won’t be forever. And at the end of the busy period we try and get back to normal, or we go on holiday and what happens? We get sick. Rob said that he used to tell his students that sometimes you just have to “Do the ill thing” i.e. give in and STOP - which without realising it is what I had been doing for the preceding day or so. The other thing that my treatment with him became focussed on was my newly tweaky left knee (which randomly started hurting during the day on Thursday) which he declared to be inflamed and probably the result of hyperextension. Funnily enough one of my yoga teachers in my preashtanga days had pointed this out, as had Harmony on my first trip to Goa, but since then it’s never been mentioned. It does seem strange that all of a sudden it should flare up my previously pain-free left knee but I am going to take his word on it. After the treatment it was feeling quite a lot more tender, so needless to say more resting was required, which just about covered Saturday where my only outing was to a kirtan class. Sunday’s yoga practice was OAP yoga (veeeeery slow) though luckily I had the chance to chat with Cary beforehand who checked my knees and agreed that yes, I do have hyperextension and that in her words “This is good! Now you really have a practice...a MENTAL practice!”. I was given strict instructions to put in the microbends not just through my practice, but in my whole life (I reckon standing up on the tube – what do they call it, straphanging? – is where I lock out my knees the worst actually) and so my practice was slow and mindful (aka irritating). Somehow putting that teeny bend in your knees simultaneously feels like cheating, but also makes everything seem more difficult. Bye-bye delicious easy forward bends...hopefully not for long though. The noteworthy point in Sunday’s practice was that FINALLY I managed to hoist myself up into kukuttasana! Since my last post I have been working hard on garbha pindasana and watching my changing emotions towards it (from thinking that I will NEVER get the rocking, to it becoming easier, from tears of frustration to quiet determination, from bruises below the elbow to bruises above the elbow) and the moment that I gained some control in my rocking (still on-the-spot for now) Cary started pressing me to lift up at the end. Up to that point I hadn’t even tried as it just hurt and felt wrong. Cary’s explanation when I gave this reason? “You know how uttitha hasta is just HARD?” – I knew that meant I had to do it. So I have been trying, utterly convinced I would never do it, and though it took tremendous effort and about 8 momentum-gathering-rocks, on Sunday I finally had lift-off!

And you know what? Once I was up there it felt so easy – almost too easy! So when the same thing happened today (after only about 3 attempts – progress!) and I got the same easy feeling and wide grin in kukkutasana I simultaneously realised a couple of things. One – I am STRONG! Maybe not compared to anyone else, but for me – I am! And this pose makes me really feel like I am on top of the world, I love that feeling! Two – so often the journey is the hardest part. Once we have made the climb, so often we can just stand back and enjoy the view. I think it’s easy to forget this and think that things are always going to be difficult and tough if they are hard-fought, but sometimes all this means is that the hard work is already done. I’m not even sure if this directly applies to my own off the mat stuff, but it definitely applies on my mat, so I thought it might be worth sharing. Boring post over and out.

Keep on keeping on.

At the moment I am going through a period of adjustment. Having been given a couple of new asanas in the past six months (kurmasa/supta kurmasana and most recently garbha pindasana) I am noticing some patterns in the way I react with a new posture - so maybe it will be ever thus...

First stage is of course excitement. Yippeeee!! I got the next one!! Pride in my own achievement is characterised by being unable to tell my shala-mates about it after practice (them: "how was your practice today?" me: "oh yes, fine...") as I feel like a total div jumping up and down and saying GUESS WHAT?!! even if that's how I feel. It works best when one of your friends happens to see it happening, and that way you don't need to brag. So yes, day 1 is definitely characterised by elation. This also manifests in the desire to tell my work colleagues all about it - point 1: they don't understand what it all means and why being given a new asana is so exciting and point 2: they really couldn't care less.

The next stage seems to follow very quickly afterwards and is somewhere between shock and bewilderment. Hang on, I start to realise, you mean I have to do this every day now? And after today I'm not going to have my teacher hold my hand and guide me though it? And it probably means I need to start getting up earlier? I'm sorry, can somebody remind me why exactly I wanted this day to come? Day 2 with garbha was where I  gave myself ginormous bruises which I saw fit to photograph and post on facebook (see part 1: the desire to tell people who don't care). 

Simultaneously occurring in the world outside of my practice is the continued need to talk to people who don't care (namely the long suffering work colleagues), preferably including showing them pictures/videos (against their will) whilst explaining to them how very incredibly difficult this asana is. I'm not sure what I want - a medal?

The next thing that happens is I begin to convince myself that this asana is actually both dangerous and bad for me, and that I am giving myself serious injuries by attempting it. With supta kurmasana I had a very painful injury in my collar bone from being adjusted which did mean I had to completely back off the pose for a good few weeks on more than one occasion. With garba I am now experiencing pain in my bones - mainly in my forearms, and also in my hands. I find it impossible to turn my hands to lift up into kukkutasana and any attempts feel likely to break my arms (yes, I am a drama queen).

This is where I have got to with garbha pindasana - after the elation, the posting on facebook and telling colleagues about my new asana, the slight bewilderment and disbelief that I had to keep trying this and the fear of the injury came actual declarations of hatred. I walked out of the practice room a few days after being given it and C said to me "Meeeel, it's getting better every day" and before she could finish I answered "No it's not, it's terrible - and I HATE IT!" Haha. Drama queens are us (and notice how I know best...). I told her that after I had wrestled my arms through and sat for 5 breaths, I took my fingers to my forehead and preparing to rock back I just cried instead. "Crying is GOOD, it's going to make it so much better!" says C but I'm not entirely convinced. I started to analyse it and decided that my problem with the rocking is that I feel STUPID. I rock all the way back onto my head (which is too far, I lose contact between my hands and my forehead) then struggle to right myself. In short, I feel like some sort of beached whale. Who can't even rock in a circle (I'm doing on the spot - rocking for beginners). Anyway after my psychoanalysis I decided to tell myself that it doesn't matter if I feel like I look silly, probably nobody else thinks that I do (a good lesson for life too of course) and that I just need to keep on trying. And trying, and trying, and trying. 

And of course this is the key - practice, practice, all is coming (I think the big man may have been onto something with this). I fully remember not so long ago feeling like supta kurmasana has completely flummoxed me, that I would never in a million years be able to do it without serious effort and assistance, but over time something changed, or more correctly lots of somethings changed, ever so gradually, and a little piece more of the puzzle fell into place each week until I can now (somedays) bind my hands by myself. And I just need to remember that there is no quick fix, that I just have to keep going with garbha pindasana, and slowly but surely one day the pieces will fall into place and I will be able to practice it with more ease.

Of course it is the same with life – in some respects I think you often only get given what you can handle. Changes which seem huge and overwhelming more often than not happen in stages so that from A to Z might be a huge change, but from X to Y to Z is oh so much more gradual. I was talking with an old friend of mine a while ago about the idea of me leaving London – I always said that London wasn’t my forever home, but as I have now reached the 10 year mark living here it seems like it would be more of a wrench to leave. But as my friend so wisely pointed out, I’d be unlikely to just up sticks one day. More likely is that a series of life changes, whether that’s related to work, or a partner, or something else entirely, would evolve over time so that leaving London became the natural next step.

And it’s the same with ashtanga - if you went suddenly from doing nothing to doing the full primary series 6 days a week with dropbacks & all the whistles and bells, it would be completely overwhelming (not to mention crazy). Instead, with the guidance of a teacher you learn at a pace which suits you, and as and when you are ready you learn a little more. And for me, I gradually added another day to my practice week, one day at a time, to build what is (hopefully) a sustainable practice.

But as I work through the stages with my new asana, and I currently reside in the "am I ever going to get this??" stage of bamboozlement, I just need to remind myself how impossible all that came before seemed at first (including - to begin with - having a morning practice at all) and just keep practicing with the faith and belief that it will come...it just takes time. And there endeth the sermon...Amen :)

Bumps in the road.

I've been having an interesting time over the past few weeks. I can't go into detail here (yet) but I have come up against a situation in my life that has shown me great uncertainty - as of now it could go either way. For somebody who likes to know all the answers and to plot and plan around them, uncertainty isn't easy. But maybe I am describing my pre-yoga self, I have less of a need to know the complete road-map these days - which as it turns out might be just as well!

Last week started in a challenging way, as I left my house to head to the shala at 6.20am I saw a traffic warden photographing my car, having just written me a ticket. About a month ago they decided to paint some white boxes on my street indicating parking spaces, and aside from the inconvenience of having to move my car to a neighbouring road while they did the painting, I thought nothing of it. Little did I know that parking where I did (overhanging a box) would lead to not one but TWO fines of £120 each - one ticket was written at 4.45pm on a Sunday, the other 6.20am on the Monday (during which time I hadn't left my house). If I hadn't seen her taking the photo as I left for yoga would I have returned to find 7 more parking tickets I wonder? Anyway I reacted in a classic way - I reasoned with her, I begged, I pleaded, I may have shouted a little, and then I cried (because she said "if you'd only come out a minute earlier you could have stopped me..." I mean seriously - what help is it to say that???) and finally I snatched the ticket off the windscreen and stormed off up the road, slightly concerned what effect this contretemps would have on my practice. 

Oh, you mean I have to park inside the lines??

When I reached the end of my road two young neighbours who'd seen the debate going on mentioned that they'd seen I had a ticket last night, so realising that I had two already I had to go back and move the car for fear of getting more. So I stomped BACK down my road, slightly hysterical about how late I was for practice by this point, got in the car, moved it back into the bloody bay, locked up, back up the road and went to get my phone out to photograph the measly sign (which doesn't mention fines, it just says "park in marked bays"). No phone. So I stomp back down the road, unlock the car, find my phone on the passenger seat, lock the car again, back up the road...and finally on my way to yoga. I wasn't very proud of the way I reacted when confronted with this situation (especially the shouting and crying) and with all the up-and-down the road action I had started to get myself into a panic that I would have to miss practice, or that it would be ruined. So I kept breathing, and told myself that I would let it go, and wouldn't allow it to affect my practice, and headed to the shala where (despite lots of changing-room chat about it both before and after) I did not let it get the better of me. Chatting about it I decided that it was OK that I got angry, as it was a stressful situation and the anger was short-lived - the key is that I did not let it eat away at me, or to ruin my day. Although if I don't manage to triumph in my appeal against the fines I might be slightly less relaxed about it....

Anyway the following day was when I received news of the "uncertainty". And my first reaction was actually very positive: "OK," I thought to myself "Let's see what happens here." No panic, no dramatising, just a straight-forward realisation that without all of the information there was little I could do, but I was confident that things would be alright. Sorry I realise this is all a bit mysterious but it does need to be for the time being!

The following day, Wednesday, was a red letter day for different reasons as I was given the next pose in the primary series: garbha pindasana. I had a feeling it was coming after I started binding supta kurmasana (and got put through bootcamp to "nail the exit") a few weeks ago, and had almost expected it to come on Monday (knowing that it wouldn't on Tuesday!). So I was thrilled, I love the low-key way Cary comes and gives you a new pose, she just comes to you on your mat, says "Now come into lotus..." and begins to talk you through it, no run-up to it, no whistles and bells, just simple explanation and help. Susan was practicing in front of me that day and was doing her 2nd series twists and it was all I could do not to give her a big grin but I concentrated on the job in hand as Cary wrestled and prised my arms through the non-existent gaps in my lotus, sitting at one point with her foot on my knee to give her some leverage while I worried that the new practitioner on the mat beside me (who according to Susan's email had stopped practicing and was "frankly GAWPING") would never come back again after witnessing the man-handling it took to get my arms through! I think I said to C at one point "this is a lot harder than it looks!" but eventually my arms were through, hands under my chin, I breathed there (panted) and then she helped me to rock. I have been doing a version of this in the led class every week (without trying to get my hands through) where I roll right back onto my head as I thought was correct, but having Cary help me rock the movement was slight in comparison - I asked her about it, and she said that this is essential so that you can keep your hands in contact with your head, and to keep your back rounded and your bandhas locked. "As soon as you lose that contact you lose your bandhas" she says and I think BANDHAS?? Are you KIDDING me???!! After the first very assisted attempt she says "And now do it again by yourself" and then walks away to the sound of me laughing my head off. Of course I give it a go, I go and get the water bottle and try and TRY to wrestle my arms through, they try to rock around, beaching myself and calling out to her for help, and eventually she helps me to rock around (saying all the while "I'm not doing anything, you're doing it all, I'm just holding your knees") and then I'm done. Ecstatic I head to work, the first bruises already showing on my hands (I think from where C gripped them to pull them through) and struggle not to spend the entire day telling my colleagues what I just got given. Of course they are not in the slightest bit interested, and if they saw what I was trying to do they would probably think I had completely lost the plot.

Having had a fairly eventful three days I began to wonder what would come next. And what came next? Irritability, restlessness, snapping at my Mum on the phone, wishing I was anywhere but where I was at any given moment, that was what characterised Thursday. On Friday I decided to do my little photo project to cheer me up (and very successful it was too), but then the weekend was an odd one.

After my initial positive reaction, by the weekend I had descended a bit into panic. And the weekend consisted of: a very late night on Friday leading to me sleeping most of the day Saturday and then feeling I'd wasted the whole day; then an evening and night disturbed by neighbours 4 houses away having the world's loudest ever party (after trying for an hour to call the council I eventually moved a mattress into the study at the front of my flat and slept there, being woken again at 5am to find it still in full swing - African beats pounding, the garden floodlit and men in no shirts dancing and singing...); a very tough practice on Sunday; tears over brunch...and finally a decision to start looking after myself. On the way home from brunch I went via the garden centre and bought a load of plants which I spent three hours installing in the garden (which my body didn't thank me for the next day...) and felt so much happier once I had done that. Then on Monday night I went to a singing class with some friends, another positive and helpful step towards a happier me, and on Tuesday had dinner with a wonderful friend who said all the right things about my situation and made feel even better still.

So now having moved through positivity, restlessness and panic, I have arrived at a place of intrigue. Uncertainty means that life could go in many different directions, and what is that if it's not a huge gift? One of the things which helped me to arrive in this place was reading this in Gregor Maehle's book:

"A peasant once spoke to the sage Ranakrishna thus:

 'I am a simple villager. Please give me in one sentence a method by which I can obtain happiness.' Ramakrishna's answer was: 'Totally accept that you are a machine operated on by God."

Reading this helped me to gain a bit of perspective and was the beginning of my "intrigue" phase. You can interpret this as you will, but I have faith that "something will come up" / "the universe will provide" or however you want to put it, that something larger than me is in charge of what happens next, and frankly I am intrigued to discover what this will be. So watch this space...

And I fully intended this post to be all about garbha pindasana and coming to terms with learning new asanas...but I will have to save that for another day!

***********Edit - parking update!! *******************
I have to pay the fines, my appeal was rejected. But it's OK! All things in perspective, this is certainly not the end of the world. And maybe it's karma for all the times I drove over the speed limit and never got caught :)

1 day in August

It's been a funny old week (more on that later). But after getting myself into a highly irritated and irritable state on Thursday evening I decided it was time to do something a bit different. So from the moment I woke up on Friday morning until I went to bed, I photographed my whole day. And given that the idea of doing this was primarily to turn my day around and have some fun, I can say that it was a total success! I especially enjoyed the reactions I got from the people around me when I asked permission to photograph the man selling me my morning croissant...I started the day with a smile, and went to greater lengths than normal to make my day interesting. It was a fun experiment and something I would love to repeat - the possibilities are endless! And of course it will be so interesting to look back on in years to come, your everyday reality seems mundane at the time but how fascinating is it when you come across the odd old photo of your office, or a house you used to live in, a car you used to have? It's shame we so often take more pictures of high days and holidays than we do of our everyday lives.

Anyway I've talked enough - here is the link to the pictures along with a few pictures from the album - just one further bit of explanation before I do though! This wasn't about creating beautiful photographs, which would have meant me standing back from life and observing. This was about taking pictures which captured my normal life, and for the most part I took pictures as I walked - hence the imperfect quality in places! 

One slightly odd request - if you see fit to comment on any of the photos on Flickr please don't mention this blog as I am also linking to the album via facebook and my nearest and dearest don't know that this exists...so Mum's the word.

Arrival at Yoga...the only photos exclusion zone for the day!

And that's a little taster - if you would like to see more, you can view my Flickr album here: 1dayinAugust.

Sadness passing through

I have these little mantras, just personal ones, they're not something I use all of the time but sometimes I really need to remember them. Before I even really go into yoga I thought of my first one: "I am here." I was dealing with a breakup and my mind would spin off into daydreams of what had been (and what might have been) and I would just keep reciting "I am here, I am here" to try and bring myself out of the hurtful dream. I added a new one this week (not actually invented by me) "I am not my thoughts" and then I threw in "this too shall pass" (again, I pinched this one). 

It's funny, I was just in the supermarket queue last night and I suddenly went into this major angst which is hard to describe. There was an older African guy with his grown-up son in front of me, the man was in more traditional clothes and I assume was visiting. He bought a few things in two transactions, and one set was for example 3 boxes of razor blades which were all quite expensive (the first purchase cost a lot too - over £30 for just a couple of things). As I watched him peel notes off a wad I went into this mindset of feeling desperately sorry for him, almost drowned by the sense of his vulnerability - but actually seeing him was just the trigger and straight away I experienced all of the same feelings for my parents. The feeling is a mishmash of massive guilt, feeling protective, and overwhelming sympathy and all I know is that the first time I had it I was about 9 years old, and it practically crippled me.

But what I did this time was tried very hard to talk myself down from it - in fact just to let it go, which I did relatively successfully (although just writing about it now is bringing me out in a hot sweaty panic). But before I'd had a chance to get my equilibrium back completely it was thrown up in the air again.

I have a new rule of thumb. Any sentence which begins "I am upset because..." and goes in to contain the words "...on facebook" is not a valid complaint. What is this world we live in where a "like" or a comment (or lack of one) can send us onto a major downer? The fact that I'm 32 years old means I should know better - it's embarrassing and pathetic. But former relationships and social networking are a BAD MIX and thanks to this I went into a major tailspin yesterday evening. I won't go into specifics, just to say that something was confirmed for me that I had suspected for a while, but it suddenly dredged up a lot of the feelings about the relationship - on a plate - BANG and here they were. My first instinct was to pick up my phone to text my friend and say what had happened. I picked it up - and then put it down. I unrolled my mat. I tried some floating up into headstand. I repeated my little mantras a few times (mainly "I am here/I am not my thoughts). I tried not to fixate. In essence, I did everything I could to allow the feelings of sadness, loss, or whatever they may have been to exist, but to feel that they were just passing through. This is something I have read in a book once and also heard recently on one of Kino's podcasts, that instead of saying "I'm so depressed!" you say to yourself "feelings are sadness are there" - in other words, don't become the thoughts that you are experiencing. I think I am coming to understand that this is what non-attachment really means.

Still, it doesn't make it that easy to clear the mind and get to sleep. Nor to get up and practice this morning ("I am here; I am here; I am here"). I was having a bit of a hard time on my mat, not disastrous but I was definitely feeling on a knife edge emotionally. I wasn't sure I'd get through my practice. But then the dreaded triang mukha passed without incident and I started to feel better, things were flowing. As I reached the end of my practice I went into my last pose kurmasana, deeper than before with the feeling that my shoulders were really under my legs, and my hands were there ready to easily bind. But as I went to clasp the hands assistance came, I wriggled my right foot over my left and hooked the feet and was lifted up into the dwi pada exit...but I had a hard time understanding what I was being told to do. "Keep the head down - no down! Keep the feet locked! Move the hands back, PUSH into them - feet locked head down!!" with ongoing encouragement to lift up into titibhasana and then jump back. "Again" she says (2 is normal, this is OK). Again I go into kurmasana, even deeper than before and this time I bind the hands myself then start wriggling the feet in (I find it's harder when the hand bind is more tentative), cross the feet and we go through the same instructions. This time I'm more tired, the feet uncross but C tries to get me to recross them and lift back up, I'm trying to ask questions while in bakasana and she says "NO talking! Jump back - JUMP!" and I think I might cry. And then she says "Now do it again".

On the third attempt it's not so much tremors in my right leg as a 7 on the Richter scale. There is no binding of the hands. I can't even attempt to lift up alone. I collapse panting onto my mat and do the only thing possible - I take child's pose. The tears come in padmasana and as I am putting away my mat C is there. I want to speak to her but don't know where to start. 

But something else I had realised between last night and today's practice is that of course yoga people have negative thoughts sometimes, of course they get into these downward spirals of regret, loss, guilt, whatever it may be. My first teachers J & H seemed like such amazing, peaceful people I felt like they represented all yoga people who must live this charmed life, where they never wake up in a shitty mood just for no reason, they could handle any situation thrown at them with grace and compassion, in short they were not much like me (or anybody else I ever met). Of course this is complete nonsense and my immersion in the world of ashtanga has taught me well enough that we are not angels. But what separates me as a yoga practitioner from the me of my past is self awareness. When these thoughts come, I don't allow them to swamp me - or at least, not for long. I try to do something else that will shift the feeling, I don't wallow in it, spending hours on the phone in a "he said/she said" moaning conversation. So I told C that today I was on the edge - misunderstanding, she thought I meant on the verge of getting this asana and said yes, that's why she was pushing me. I explained (without explaining in detail) that I meant I had some emotional stuff happening before I came to practice, and she started talking about how interesting it is that we have this thread, this continuous thread that binds us, and that people have all this stuff going on that she's not even aware of always, and still they turn up on their mat and keep with it. But as I said to her, what else can we do? If things are happening in our lives that aren't great, what better to do than to show up on our mat - we keep moving forward so that we can move forward. And every day is a new day.

Practice report

Maybe it's time for a practice report; it's been a while. Non ashtangis (are there any reading?!) you might want to look away now unless you want to be bored to death!!

Quite quickly daily practice has become the norm. Aside from missing Sundays the past few weeks (my birthday/moonday and then my niece's 1st birthday - and my other niece's 3rd this weekend, so that'll be 3 in a row) the consecutive 5 weekdays feels tough, but good. That decision making process of whether to go to the shala has gone, and the daily routine is now comfortably established. My alarm is set a little earlier these days (5am) and due to the broken shower at the shala I allow time to wash my hair before practice, have some tea and mill about for a bit before I leave, starting practice around 7am. The little victory this week has been arriving closer to 6.45 and getting onto my mat BEFORE 7! Next thing I know I'll even be on time for work... ;)

I've been concentrating on tidying up my practice too, by which I mean cutting out some of the faffing, and I think I have probably shaved a good 10 minutes off it on a good day, maybe more. Enough time anyway to no longer have any excuse but to do 5 surya As and 5 Bs, my guilty confession is that since having new poses added in April (I think it was) I cut down to 3 Bs as I was feeling knackered and a bit overwhelmed. A wise friend suggested last week that it's very important to do the full quota to warm up the body so this week they are back, and I haven't keeled over and died just yet. My other spot of cheating which I have kicked to the kerb this week is the bent leg navasana...I stopped trying to do it with straight legs months ago as I had a serious case of the leg shakes and felt that I was tipping so far back to prevent it that I might be better off with the legs bent. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was cheating...and then assistant B suggested on Monday that I just tilt my head back a little and it seemed to make all the difference, the straight legs are back and yes, there is a little additional effort but it also seems easier somehow (maybe alleviating my guilty conscience has done me some good).

So what else is new? Prasaritas are feeling STRONG, I have always enjoyed these (mainly A) but with my quite-wide stance the head is now comfortably down in A, loose strands of my fringe are brushing the mat in B, head is down in C and I can feel that sans assistance the hands are nice and far over (they are back to being down to the ground with help, but it doesn't come often) and in D I can move weight back over my hips and not lean all of my weight on the thumbs as I bind around the toes. This sequence is undeniably getting much much stronger with my more consistent practice. Another huge change is in UHP, mostly in my mental attitude. It's gone from being a pose of dread to once where I feel strong and empowered (thanks to twitter friends @yogicaroline and @Dom1985 changing my mindset on this). I am not bowing down to the leg unless I'm assisted but I've gone from veeeery shaky balance and dropping the leg 2 or 3 times before giving up to a good firm A where I  feel strong in the leg and have a firm grip on my toe. Taking the leg to the side for B is the real challenge, some days I can find the right spot and feel I am still lifting and the leg is strong, other days my hip clunks noisily as I rotate it and puts me off, or I just can't find the balance. Led classes tend to bring a complete absence on this posture and I am starting to crave an adjustment so that I can do a "proper" one, it's been a while.

Utkatasana is now a pose of great effort as opposed to one I rushed, the legs are bent trying to feel the burn (it's Susan's fault for saying it's good prep for pasasana, might as well get started early!!) but the warrior sequence is a bit of a trial still. I'm feeling tired in my hips and as I approach it I often consider bailing out before seated, but manage to keep going although I feel like I rush it, hoping not to get adjusted or called out by C to bend my legs more deeply (it's too hard!).

Forward bends are DEEP and I'm trying hard to concentrate on bandhas (everywhere of course, but particularly in paschimottansana) grounding through the pelvis and working on getting chin to shin. I asked for help again with my dreaded Janu sirsasana B this week as it continues to be painful on the right side, C seemed genuinely surprised when I showed her the mark that has developed on my foot and referred to it as a "weird injury"!! As I showed her the problem I realised that the pain comes when I lean forward to take the foot, she suggested that as my body was talking to me that I listen to what it's saying and stop just short of the point where it's hurting. I said I could feel that if I had more bandhabandha strength than anything else. Triang mukha continues to be a challenge though it seems to have lost much of it's emotional content, but perhaps because I am not really pushing it. On days when my bandha focus is better this one seems better too, but B never misses his chance to adjust me in it on his days assisting, due I suspect to the fact he knows about my meltdown. I did wonder this morning why that didn't "clear it", I always thought that if I finally allowed the tears to come I would have burnt away the samskaras and been free of it, so not sure why this hasn't worked in my favour yet? In any case I am done with analysing it to try and gauge what the emotion is, I'm just aware that there's something there.

I'm working on going straight into the Maris from my jumpthrough, or at least with little hesitation, and have had a few days of wrist-binding in D this week. Adjustments in C feel delicious, it seems to be so easy to turn what feels like 180 degrees and take hold of my inner thigh, in B and D (and all half lotus postures) I am being cautious with my right hip/knee and taking a few breaths of cradling the leg before diving on in. Bhuja is...well, bloody difficult, but my new strategy is to lower down reeeeeeally slowly maintaining control, which means I get about halfway down in 5 breaths. Avoiding a faceplant/bum-landing means no head on the ground for now. Or I try it twice, once this controlled way (trying to avoid the wild swinging back and forth which sometimes happens) and once with the head down, where I inevitably dive down and then get trapped, leading to the crash-landing exit.

Kurmasana and supta kurmasana have benefited most from my new daily schedule. This morning I had a firm grip on the rib cage with the legs in kurmasana and felt like the legs were all-but straight/flat, and I am halfway between comfortably getting my forehead and my chin down. If I try it twice the second one always feels SUPER strong on this rib-squeeze. And on Monday I was given a little gift to keep me motivated when I managed to bind my fingers in supta k all by myself! True the feet were not crossed at the same time but this is just step one (and the self-binding has been absent ever since). In the days that followed I have just missed the bind and have had assistance some days but not others, with C getting me to try and cross the right foot over left and then ram my head down under the locked feet, on some days she lifts my legs up and I hold for a breath or two in dwi pada. I asked her what it takes to get the foot to cross as it feels impossible (like learning to fly or something) and her answer was WILLPOWER! As she said, it's just not logical, the only thing that will get it there is sheer determination. My exit is getting stronger too, though up into titibhasana is improving, but coming into bakasana still has a long way to go - I can bring my right leg around but not to the back of my knee (it's sort of resting at the side I think) then as the left leg comes around the toes just meet the floor and I go into a sort of squat...where I recover briefly while I consider that backbends come next!

The next thing on the list for C's bootcamp this week is my headstand. Given what a battle it was to get up into the inversion I have been happy just to get on with it these past few months, but she has now got me working on floating up into it. She gave me the balasana back massage one day this week and after she finished I became aware she was on the floor beside me. When I eventually roused myself (quite zoned out by the stage) she told me to come back up, walk my feet in ("no more! even closer!") tuck one knee into the chest, and then try to float the other leg up. "No jumping!" Another WTF?? moment (like learning to fly), there was no way my toes were coming up without a little hop! A few days of trying this and I found that one leg would lift a few inches and felt magical when it did (it actually FLOATS! Who knew?!) eliciting a noise of surprise (sorry Susan) but the other side stubbornly refuses to lift. And getting into a full inversion in this way is another story - I have a few tries then go back to my usual tucking the knees in then shooting the legs up version and hang out in headstand. A few days into these experiments C comes over in balasana and this time says "halfway down?". Bootcamp I tell you! I told her I can't do it (haha - I never tried, it just looks too hard) so she suggested I can bend my knees down then try to straighten one leg at a time. So I go back up into headstand (struggling to get back up) and as soon as I try to bend the knees it all happens too fast and I think I'm going to go over the top. Slowly is the key apparently. Too tired I vow to try again the next day. Yesterday I went to the wall to experiment with both new tricks and without the fear of going over I walked both legs in and BOTH legs floated up - I can't explain how great it felt, though admitedly I felt too far forward on my head and the legs clunked against the wall and I came back down again. Still, it's a start - and the same with halfway down, I gave it a whirl at the wall, it's just all about getting used to the feeling I suppose and this is just week one.

This practice, there's always so much to work on! Led class tomorrow, love that group energy. More soon on how all this yogaing is changing the off the mat stuff too! 

Feel the resistance and do it anyway.

This post has been swirling around my mind for weeks and changing and being added to as my experience changes.

It all started when regular teacher C went to Mysore for the authorised teacher training and we had a new teacher in to cover (at the risk of repeating myself to those who read regularly, this is the “previously, on ER moment”). Just before C left I started to feel a bit worried about how I would handle being with a new teacher. Although from the first moment I walked into Yoga Place I felt that Cary was my teacher, in the time since I started practicing at the shala 9 months ago I have found myself starting to understand what it really means to work daily with the same teacher. And having made this connection, and it having taken all that time to build, I really didn’t want to have to start all over again. In the last week with C I got some really great information and help from her on the poses that I have long held doubts about, all of which made me start to worry about getting conflicting information from the new teacher, and how it could end up being “wasted” time where I was being encouraged to do things differently. But these were just my fears and concerns with no basis in experience or fact, so I diplomatically (cough cough) wrote the post Not better, just different.

So now for total honesty time. Cary went away, and the next day at the shala went like this. Walked in – everything felt different. No incense burning, the door to the practice room was open (it was usually closed). Was that a window open? Could I hear a radio?? Half the regulars were missing. There were several people in the room I’d never seen before. Walked in to start practice and got a big smile and hello from our new teacher, M (OK I don’t remember if that happened – but it happened every other day afterwards, so let’s assume it happened on day 1 too). Started practice and my mental voice went like this: “Idon’tlikeitIdon’tlikeitIdon’tlikeit...everything’s different, why’s it so different? I’m just going to start going back to AYL in the evenings with R, at least I know her even if it means I can only do a few nights a week...” and then I gently took over my mad brain. No, I decided. You are not going to bail out. You are going to stick with this and see exactly how differently you feel in five weeks to how you feel right now. And so that’s what I did.

And how did I feel 5 weeks later? Mel left and I walked all the way to the station crying my eyes out because i was going to miss her so much. What was so interesting here was the mental process, and to me this shows real progress and change – sod whether I can bind in supta kurmasana (I can’t yet, by the way!!), being able to watch my mind having a freak-out and make it stop by gently saying “No, this is OK, you’re going to come out the other side of this feeling, just keep working through it and don’t allow it to overwhelm you.” Surely that’s the yoga, isn’t it?

The other thing about this that’s been so interesting is how I felt when C came back last week. As it was midweek it felt really strange to have an emotional goodbye one morning and the next morning walk in to my regular teacher, fresh off the plane. She came out to say hi and a big hug and a kiss, it was lovely to see her, then I went off to get changed and it was business as usual. No smile or greeting on walking into the shala to start practice (this is the norm) and although I thought it would be rammed with everybody there to see her back, it was quite quiet. And I got relatively few assists, though I was reminded on Mari C at the strength of the assists (having had much gentler versions for the past 5 weeks) and then again a very strong adjustment in D from the assistant, both of which genuinely made me want to scream “TOO MUCH!”. Then we got to supta kurmasana, which I had been feeling so fabulous about after starting to feel I was working towards binding it myself thanks to Mel’s help (and the injury was doing soooo much better after backing off it almost entirely for a month). But instead of having an unassisted attempt first, on my first go my legs were somehow ON my head, with an immediate feeling of panic and claustrophobia that I have never experienced before, it felt like all of the weight of my legs was pushing down onto my forehead and I did not like it one bit. Talking to a fellow practitioner on the train the next day she said “and I LOVE the new supta kurmasana adjustment!” making me realise that it didn’t just feel different to me, it had actually changed. So I came away from the first day back to Mysore practice feeling a bit blah...and as I mentioned in my last post with a massive resistance to practice another 6 day week. But I didn’t want to miss Cary’s first Led class after coming back, what if she told us some huge news and I wasn’t there to hear it? Then I started to recognise this need I have to not miss anything (this is also the reason I end up spending so little time alone when I have been on yoga retreats...what if I miss something?) and I was questioning if this was something I have become attached to that I should try and overcome. So I was basically playing Jedi mind games to talk myself out of talking myself into a 6 day week ;)

But I ignored the crazy voices and went to the led class, only to find that instead of being inches between the mats there were only about 12 people there (less than half what I’d think of as normal). And with the exception of some breath retention work during padmasana (not a fan) nothing really seemed to have changed, except that C said at the beginning “I will be counting only in Sanskrit from now on...”, giggles when there was the odd slip-up or mis-named asana, we all knew what was meant to come next, but every class needs a few giggles.

Sunday being a moonday (and my birthday!) there was no practice, and I spent the day eating cake, so as I was reluctant to go to bed on Sunday night I decided to skip practice on Monday morning. There’s that resistance again. But with the benefit of an extra ninety minutes sleep (allowing enough time for some gentle asana and a short meditation-ish practice before work) and not so much rushing around, I arrived at work more knackered than on a practice day, and I realised that it actually GIVES me energy to sleep less and go to yoga rather than costing it as I had thought all along. Bugger it....there’s no going back now. But subconsciously I think I already knew that skipping practice on Monday was to do with not being back in the swing of things with C, but having felt crappy from lack of practice I turned up on Tuesday. 

And what happened? The shala was quiet again, and I had lots of help. I spoke to her about supta k and the new assist (after receiving it and feeling like I stopped breathing through panic – my breath as I spoke to her afterwards was ragged), and had a great discussion about how you don’t have to cross your feet over your head. She said this is often introduced because people are on second series and start coming into it in dwi pada etc, but there is actually no need for the feet over the head stuff for supta k. And then she said that she could see how much this pose had changed for me and that I now get into it really easily. REALLY?? J J 

It was amazing to be told that something had visually changed in such a short space of time, and the vinyasa and backbends that followed were easy and strong...what is it about compliments that does that to my backbending? I suddenly find all this energy from nowhere! And then after practice C came and sat beside me while I was putting on my makeup and wished me a happy birthday, and shared news of my wonderful first teachers who she was in Mysore with (which made me very very happy), and we talked about being in your thirties and all of the changes which happen in these years, and it was all wonderful and >click< there it was. I reconnected with my teacher. It wasn’t just one thing, it was a combination, but it took until after yesterday to realise that a bond with a teacher might not always just arrive and stay forever. It can wax and wane a little and sometimes you might have to work at it.

But adding this whole experience together I feel like I have learnt some hugely valuable lessons; that connecting with a teacher is one of the most important things when practicing ashtanga, but simultaneously so is not being too attached to your teacher. Because if C left the country tomorrow, what would I do? I wouldn’t want to stop practicing, that’s for sure. It has been so interesting to observe my own mental battles with regards to this attachment, and the changes, and having to learn somebody else’s ways, and what has been really interesting is to observe these things without acting on them. I wanted to run away and practice elsewhere: but I didn’t. I didn’t want to do a couple of back to back 6 day practice weeks: but I did. 

So if I can overcome the wants and don’t wants here on my mat, surely that means I can conquer some of them off out in the wider world? Time will tell, but let's just say: so far so good.